Shackled
by the.clairvoyance
Summary: "I was thinking that we should set up camp in the guest room and not come out for the rest of the weekend." Emily and Aaron spend a weekend at Little Creek ; .


**Shackled**

**Disclaimer:** I am not at all related to any of the producers, writers, directors, actors, or any other awesome people responsible for the show Criminal Minds.

**Pairing:** Hotch/Prentiss, H/P.

**Genres:** Humour/Romance.

**Rating:** Mature: inappropriate language and explicit adult content.

**Prompt:** Smut Club Challenge! **Place: **Rossi's House at Little Creek. **Object: **Handcuffs.

**Summary:** "I was thinking that we should set up camp in the guest room and not come out for the rest of the weekend." Emily and Aaron spend a weekend at Little Creek ;).

**Dedication:** SussiRay for introducing me to the Smut Club, which is a magical place that promotes a healthy outlet for dirty minds ;). Thank you, SussiRay :).

**Author's Comment:** I don't know where the idea came from; I guess I was hungry at the time the plot bunny bounced into my mind x).

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_"Sex is emotion in motion."_

_~ Mae West._

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_10:34PM  
Friday July 23rd 2010  
Little Creek, Virginia, USA_

"Any other way I can assist you, your highness?" Aaron asks me dryly as he places the last of the luggage on the floor in front of me.

Responsively, I roll my head in Hotch's direction offering him a half-lazy half-smug smile and a shake of my head. Gosh I love teasing him. Sure, I guess I ought to be nicer considering that it _was_ Aaron who had invited me to come along with him, drove us all the way out here, and then unloaded most of the vehicle without a single complaint—until thus far, that is—but I'm just too damn comfortable to care about being fair and compassionate right now. Damn Rossi and his excellent taste in home furnishing; wherever he bought these sink-right-in chairs is where I need to start shopping.

"I tucked Jack into bed and took a bit of a tour; you would not _believe_ just how tripped out this place is."

I'm gushing, quite incapable of keeping the amazement out of my tone, but that is only because I've never been to Rossi's house before, not even to Little Creek, so it is pretty mind-blowing for me to see, rather than hear, how nice this place really is. There are three spacious bedrooms and two gorgeous bathrooms; a small study with bookshelves lining each wall and a living room designed for entertainment with a library of DVDs, magazines, and CDs. The backyard is complete with a furnished porch, a hot tub, and a fire-pit. I now understand why Aaron had agreed to Rossi's invitation to housesit while he was out of town for some book deal thingy with his agent. Although Rossi doesn't exactly _know_ that I'm here, especially with Hotch, but I'm sure that he wouldn't mind. I mean if _I_ were Dave I would _love _to have me over!

"Yeah, I've been here before but it seems that Dave made a few updates."

Aaron replies offhandedly behaving as if this _paradise_ is nothing more than a Holiday Inn, while he unpacks our toiletries as well as the leftover Burger King that we picked up on the drive, something that we had only done because Jack had been starving in the backseat and I had an incredible craving for something utterly disgusting and overly salty. Aaron had jokingly mentioned pulling over at the next fast-food joint and ordering everything on the menu for Jack and I but I didn't expect him to _actually _go through the Drive-Thru and buy some ironically over-priced "value meal". In all honesty I still cannot believe that I lived to see the day Aaron Hotchner and I split a pile of greasy French fries and half a hamburger complete with the works only to watch him wash it down with half a large Coca-a-Cola. It was both nauseating and sexually stimulating. I wanted to kiss the ketchup that dribbled down his chin at that very moment but Jack was in the backseat playing with some chunk of colorful plastic that they called a "toy" but was really a poorly pieced together safety hazard.

"So what's on the docket for this weekend, Sweetie?" I ask, swinging my legs over the chair that I'm lying in horizontally. As Aaron walks by I make sure to run my foot up his pant leg, touching my toes to his thigh something that never ceases to give me all of his attention.

"Sweetie?" He queries, eyebrows raised and looking as if he cannot believe that I'd ever use such a cliché pet name on him although I can see slight wrinkling around his eyes and a dimple pressing against his cheek. The urge to kiss it is overwhelming but using all of my self-control I manage to keep my lips to myself, for now at least.

"Yes, darling?" I tease, pushing myself up from the cloud that is the chair that I'm occupying. "I was thinking that we should set up camp in the guest room and not come out for the rest of the weekend."

Aaron wraps his arms around my waist, tugs me towards him, and whispers against the shell of my ear. Instantly and involuntarily my heart rate picks up and my skin flushes; I hold my breath.

"What about Jack?"

_Tease! _I curse. _You _s_on-of-a-bitch._

"I think that would make everyone a little uncomfortable, Hotch."

He doesn't bother answering me, instead he drops a kiss on my lips and immediately I'm too far-gone. I bring my hand up to his shoulder and wrap my arm around his waist, dragging him down to me, forcing our lips to crash. Jack is asleep in one of the guest rooms and no one else is home which means that I don't have to lead Hotch to our temporary bedroom and instead can have my happily debauched way with him on the living room floor. Oh, Rossi is going to _kill_ us and make it look like an accident if he ever finds out what we are about to do on his living room rug. I figure it like this though; what he doesn't know can't hurt him and I proceed to unbutton Hotch's shirt.

"So we're really going to do it on Rossi's living room floor aren't we?"

It is so cute how Aaron even has to ask.

I slide the sleeves of Hotch's shirt down his arms and revel in a firm squeeze of his biceps.

"If it is any consolation I have every intention of christening every inch of this place."

My shirt is being pulled over my head and then tossed over Aaron's shoulder so that, like his shirt, it is lying haphazardly somewhere on the floor. We work together; me focusing on unbuckling his belt and Aaron is concentrating on removing my bra as effectively as possible, as quickly as possible. Our lips part only for Aaron to curse the hook of my bra and for me to kiss down his neck, across his clavicle, and back up to the other ear. When I reach it I seize it, my teeth nipping it almost painfully but my words stop Hotch from voicing a complaint.

"Hush, Aaron. You don't wanna wake Jack, do you?"

Aaron scoffs at me because if any one is going to get busted for volume control than it's going to be me but that doesn't mean he ought to point it out. I mean _one time_ the neighbors make a domestic disturbance call to the police and you _never_ hear the end of it!

_"Lie down."_

Hotch makes his command while his one hand is lost in my hair and the other is positioned on my hip, just inches from my crotch. I'm dying for more of this, more of _him_, so despite my absolute loathing of following orders I do as he says. I kiss my way down Aaron's abdomen, jerk his jeans down, and refuse to break eye contact as I lie myself on to my back before him. My chest heaves, breath expelling from my mouth in heady gasps (an embarrassing telltale sign of my desire) as I watch Aaron avidly. He tells me to _be patient_, something that he knows for a fact I'm no good at, and I watch him reach into the toiletries bag that I packed with our toothbrushes/toothpaste, my emergency pads, and condoms. He smirks, rips open the small package, and slides one on.

Lowering on to me, Hotch brushes back my already rumpled hair and cups my breasts, fondling and massaging, and I'm certain that he can feel my heart beating rapidly in the palm of his hand. Running my fingers through his hair, writhing beneath him, I feel as if I'm being engulfed, like I'm being swallowed whole. I remember how, when I was child, I would lie on my back when I went swimming so that my eyes could see clearly but the rest of my body felt weightless with the exception of my ears which could only pick up the sound of the current and the rhythmic thumping of my heart. It feels that way now, Aaron speaking meaningless sweet nothings and me repeating them on autopilot, too busy focusing on the details of his scent, the look in his eyes, and the unexpected yet (ultimately exceptional) shift. It really is an overwhelming experience.

Seconds blend into minutes, my muscles ache and my flesh is on fire while my heartbeat is so loud in my ears that I almost drown out the sound of Aaron encouraging me with sweet-nothings.

"Oh God, Emily, you are so fucking gorgeous." Hotch informs me, breathless and beautiful, although he'll deny it if I dare tell him that.

"Oh, I know." I'm teasing but it's kind of true; I _feel _gorgeous and if Aaron happens to think that I am as well then I am inclined to believe him. I'm not used to second-guessing him. "You're not too bad yourself, honey."

And then Aaron proves just how right I am by responding with multiple thrusts, each one more intense than the last.

A mixture of pain/pleasure ebbs through my body; hot and hard, which happens to be the way I like it and Aaron, curse the smug bastard, knows it. I manage to conceal a gasp but I can still feel every part of me tightening yet that doesn't stop Hotch from continuing harder, faster, and further. It is obvious that I'm ready and unlike the first few times I'm not at all ashamed of how difficult it is for me to keep refrain from expressing myself, however something tells me that instead of me it is Aaron who is most impatient this time, something that encourages me to turn him on to his back so that I can take control.

The thrill of making wild and passionate love on the floor of a co-worker's home without their knowledge is an odd aphrodisiac but it seems to be working for Aaron and I, although I am not exactly looking forward to any potential rug-burns or stains in the carpet. Hotch grits out a cuss word and kisses me roughly, immediately wiping my mind clean. I don't spend much time dwelling on that though, not when Hotch is already stealing away my attention by being rigid and pounding against my slick inner walls, his eyes never leaving mine. My name hemorrhages out of Aaron's mouth the same way his curse words had: sudden and wonderful. I swear if it isn't Hotch's drugging kisses or hypnotic hip rotation, it is the fact that he is inside of me that pushes me over the edge. Collapsing, I let my eyelids droop and my lips part, weakly trying to breathe normally again whilst Aaron kisses up from my belly button to beneath my breasts and then my jugular.

"Hey baby," I whisper while I lift Hotch's chin up to me so that I can look him in the eyes.

"Hey back." He murmurs while holding my hand, entwining our fingers, and kisses my nose.

On top of him, I make myself more comfortable. "I haven't felt this alive since this morning when you mounted me on the bathroom counter."

Smirking just the slightest bit, Hotch squeezes a handful of my ass. "Funny, I feel like I'm going to die."

"What a shame," I retort with a shrug, trying to appear cool and nonchalant and sucking at it. "Coz' this fantastic idea came to me when-"

"You were coming to me?" Aaron finishes with his dark eyes twinkling and his smirk kicked up a notch; I shove his shoulder playfully and climb off of him.

Hotch is left speechless, lying on his back in the middle of the living room, no doubt wondering where exactly I'm running off to. He voices this concern and just to make him sweat I decide not to bother answering him just yet.

"Emily?" He calls out to me so I smile and continue to ignore him. _"Emily?"_

"Hmm?" I respond to Hotch as I open the pantry doors and step inside; it's one of the nice walk-in kinds that I used to play hide and seek in as a kid.

Quickly, I scan through rows of canned goods that appear homemade since they aren't sealed in name brand containers and are instead labeled with a simple description such as "Peaches" or "Sweet Pickles" followed by an expiration date. By the looks of it there should be enough food here to last well into the next decade a thought that causes a smile to take over my face since it reminds me of all the food my grandfather, a culinary wizard, would keep in storage while he was living in France. He would hoard food so that whenever there were guests visiting he could make full course meals, everything a product of his own effort and love. Even _suggesting _using store-bought materials was considered a blasphemy in his mind. Every time that my parents and I had visited my grandparents my grandmother would claim that she had married my grandfather for his skills in the kitchen alone. My grandmother had the absolute worst luck in a kitchen of anyone that I had ever known, seriously! She had once set off a smoke detector while attempting to make toast, it was both pitiful and hilarious. Of course we had laughed it off, understanding that her aptitude was not in cuisine but instead the arts; her hands were more often than not a mess with pencil lead stains or coal, paint crusting and coloring her hair, and a camera dangling from her neck where jewelry ought to have hung.

At first I had been on my grandmother's side, so to speak, since I had believed that cooking was more of a chore than anything else. Chastising me, my grandfather had made me help him "create" lunch. I had watched his rough hands beat the whole-wheat dough, rolling the material between his palms, the scent of which had lifted into the air and made my mind dizzy. Together, my grandfather and I had painted the flattened "palette" with homemade tomato sauce before sprinkling shredded cheese all over it, juxtaposing the orange and yellow shards with sliced green and red peppers. We had dotted and layered our canvas with slivers of pepperoni and strips of crispy bacon, chopped up black and green olives, as well as pale white mushrooms. Once all of the ingredients had come together I had been blown away that we had made something that I never could have imagined: a masterpiece. The best part; we were able to eat it too. My grandmother had been a little saddened that I was so easily "won over" although she found it in her heart to forgive me (if I remember correctly that part came _after_ we served the dessert) but now, as I recall the heavy smell of the pizza dough rising in the oven and the orgasmic taste of that very first bite, I still see food as the best aphrodisiac.

I smile when I find what I am looking for: peanut butter and strawberry jam.

_"Oh, Aaron." _I singsong to my boss turned friend turned lover. "Have I got a treat for you!"

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_"Nothing risqué, nothing gained."_

_~ Alexander Woollcott._

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_10:40PM  
Saturday July 24th 2010  
Little Creek, Virginia, USA_

Nothing beats the classics.

I'll admit that it is just a little bit childish, nostalgic even, but that kind of makes me want it more; reverse psychology at its finest.

"Oh! You're all right? I was getting concerned that you had disappeared on me." Hotch replies, his voice carrying through the cabin.

Shaking my head to myself I tell Aaron to hurry up and get in here already but, unsurprisingly, the SSA in him kicks into high gear and immediately demands to know what's wrong. Barely concealing my impatient nature, I inform Hotch that he has to come in here A-S-A-P and he is to bring his handcuffs with him. I can just see the worry lines creasing his handsome face and his jaw tightening, his hand subconsciously falling to where his service weapon would be if Hotch were wearing his holster. The man is predictable to a fault yet, simultaneously, annoyingly and often refreshingly, unexpected.

"Emily?" His voice is cautious but it is coming closer; I can also hear his even footsteps on the hardwood floor. Inherently, I put on my poker face.

I don't blink as I notice his shadow creeping around the corner. "Do you have the cuffs?"

"Yes." Again, Hotch's voice is steady and careful, as if he is expecting something awful around the corner. I keep my amused expression internal when I see Aaron turn the corner and all he finds is little ol' me in a compromising position and an otherwise empty kitchen.

Handcuffs, just like I asked, are dangling from his jeans pocket.

Placing his gun down on the kitchen table, Hotch exhales and tells me in a very serious and unintentionally sexy voice to _"never scare me like that again." _Just to piss him off, I smile and bat my lashes, leaning back over the counter-top.

"S or M?"

The look on his face is absolutely priceless as Aaron Hotchner, yes the Aaron _'I Don't Dare Blink' _Hotchner stands gawking at me.

"I want you writhing under me."

His response is honey dripping in my ear as he walks towards me and lays his palms flat on the counter on either side of my hips. Smiling my most charming smile I grab the handcuffs hanging from his jeans and lock it around his wrist. Unable to conceal his surprise, Aaron's jaw drops and my lips curl into a wicked little smirk. I press my lips to his ear and whisper: _"M it is."_

Oh yes, I am going to have _fun _with this.

Leading Aaron towards the kitchen table I sit him down on one of the chairs, slide my hand in his pocket, and remove the other end of the handcuffs with ease. Snapping the metal teeth shut over his wrist I kiss my way up his naked chest, grinning against the rapid beating of his heart. Something inside of me is screaming that this is a bad idea, everything from shacking up with my boyfriend while he's supposed to be housesitting to binding him to a kitchen chair so that I can have my wicked way with him. But I'm not exactly listening to my inner good girl when all I can see are those to die for dimples on Aaron's face and the fact that he is poking my thigh. I let our lips meet and concede to Hotch overpowering me in our kiss, which I don't mind that much considering that I will be the one in complete control whilst he's trapped in his seat. Gently twisting his free wrist around, I clamp the other cuff into place, unable to repress my amusement when I see _and _feel Aaron wiggle beneath me.

_"Em,"_ Hotch breaks the kiss to hiss my name and when it's falling from his lips it sounds glorious. I kiss him chastely and it amazes me how much will power I must have to be able to resist him for however temporary. "What have you got up your sleeve?"

I don't answer Hotch; instead I rake my fingernails down his chest and dismount myself from his hips with a little wiggle from my own. Aaron sputters in surprise and struggles against his bindings, the wheels in his head turning as he tries desperately to understand what is going on; he can't stand it when he isn't capable of reading someone. A smile when I find what I am looking for, which happens to be two containers that are conveniently already placed on the kitchen's island. Dear God, this has to be some kind of sin, to take something so sweet and innocent only to mutilate it into something sexual and deviant. I'll never be able to look at a PB & J sandwich the same way ever again. Although, to be honest, I am considering eating one everyday for lunch for the remainder of my life if this goes as well as I plan. When I turn back to Aaron I almost burst out in laughter at the expression on his face: eyes wide and mouth agape making him the very picture of a deer in headlights.

"I thought this might be fun." I state as I waltz back over to him, purposely swinging my hips and hoping that it comes off as sexy. Then again, by the looks of Hotch's "gun" I don't think I need to be worrying myself with getting him aroused. "And the local sex shop was all out of body paints."

With an amused expression, Hotch asks me if I'm being serious and with a smirk I shake my head in response.

"Still, don't you think it's a good idea?"

"What, you eating off of me?"

He says it like it's some foreign concept but I can see it in his eyes and _feel_ that this little "idea" of mine has lit something up inside of Aaron and I can't wait to fuel that flame.

"Exactly," my voice is chipper and I'm already lowering myself on to his lap. "Now, darling, which would you like: peanut butter of jelly?"

Aaron's eyed light up and his dimples reveal themselves as he tells me to _surprise _him. Yes, it is official; I am dating a total sex God and I am a certified genius for coming up with this brilliant plan to boot. Move over Dr Spencer Reid, I may not draw up geographic profiles or graduated high school as a preteen but I don't think that my young friend has ever thought to incorporate sweet and sticky condiments in his sex-capades. Smiling, I channel my inner-artist and scoop some peanut butter up with my bare hands. I start with his cheeks, running to twin stripes from his temples down to his chin that, to me, looks something like tribal art. Licking and nibbling the sticky substance is both entertaining and erotic although Hotch seems to be struggling with it because it must be ticklish. A reward for almost sitting still, I lap some peanut butter off of his face and then initiate a kiss.

Now let me tell you, it is one of the weirdest things to kiss a man with peanut butter on your tongue.

It's good, most definitely, but it is so bizarre. Some people lose their gum in their partner's mouth, others taste chocolate_(Mmm chocolate..._I really should have brought some chocolate spread!) but this way offers more texture and the flavor is so strong. Breaking away from the kiss, I swirl some peanut butter around Aaron's nipples and take my dear sweet time with each one.

"Damn, Emily." Hotch breathes into my hair. "You're a fucking _genius_."

"Your point?" I ask cheekily whilst running a peanut butter clad finger down his abdomen.

"Whole new meaning to 'eat me', huh?" Kissing the top of my head, Aaron arches backwards and consequently _into_ me. Tipping his chin up to me, I chastise Aaron and tell him to be a good boy and to be patient.

Placing a sweet butterfly kiss between my breasts, Hotch smiles that thousand-watt smile that I am in love with, informing me that he's being selfish by putting off my pleasure. Aaron is so full of shit so I tell him that and of course all he does in response is smirk into my cleavage.

Ever hopeful (and by _hopeful _I do, in fact, mean _horny_) Hotch mumbles against my skin, "Want to give that jam a try?"

Now how can I say "no" to a face like that?

Feeding Aaron from my fingertips, I smile when I see the look in his eye since it is that look that tells me everything is wonderful between him and I. It is a look that reminds me that despite the fact we fight sometimes and get on each other's every last nerve, and we want kill one another we still care deeply and that we'll always feel safe and loved with the other. Sometimes it takes that look alone to make me forget about the reality that the world can be such a dark and haunting place, even if it is only for a few minutes, and allows me see how good I really have it. I love that look and I love Aaron for it, which is why I let him focus solely on my breasts for the next five or so minutes when we could be using our time in other ways. The jam is sticky beneath my breasts but Hotch's tongue is exquisite as it blindly smoothes my skin. Moaning, I bend backwards and sidle even closer. Hotch, who I am afraid may not be able to unlatch his lips from my tits, pivots his hips and effectively sends jolts of electricity right through me. Aroused, impatient, and admittedly a little hungry, I cup his cheeks in the palms of my hands.

"Let me love you." I whisper, kiss his lips sweetly, and then shimmy off of his lap.

"Oh, Emily," Aaron sighs as his eyes wander over my naked body. "You're wonderful."

Wilting between his knees, I smirk at the bulge in Aaron's jeans, and I realize that every aspect of Aaron Hotchner commands attention even when he doesn't exactly intend to. Nimble fingers work at unbuttoning and unzipping whilst Hotch assists me in stripping him off his pants as quickly as possible by wriggling out of the confining article of clothing. Biting my lower lip to keep myself from losing every last piece of self-control, I slip off Aaron's boxers and smile widely when his eagerness presents itself. Starting out slow I revel in the sweet sounds of gratification coming from my lover and even though we've been together for a few months now I still can't deny the ego boost that Aaron's vocalized desire gives me. Eyes wide open, I snake my tongue around him, getting way more invested than I had originally intended to. Sunk to floor on both knees, I allow my eyes to flutter shut as I block out the rest of the world.

"Jesus Christ, Em!" Hotch grunts and never has the Lord's name ever sounded so sweet in my life. "I'm gonna-I'm gonna-"

Aaron howls with pleasure until I can taste the bittersweet flavor of him on my tongue, which I am using to lap up any excess fluid.

"Hotch?" My voice sounds weird to me, almost as if it has been rubbed raw despite the lack of pain that one would usually associate with a sore throat.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

Smiling with his dimples and all Aaron's eyes are twinkling and his chest is heaving; he is the very picture of the word perfect.

"What do you think?"

Breathtakingly and unbelievably, Hotch's jaw falls and he looks so utterly confused, something that happens to be rather uncharacteristic of him.

"You _cannot_ be serious."

Hotch is scoffing and at me no less!

"Of course, I am! I mean why wouldn't I be?"

Shaking his head and shrugging a bare shoulder he responds. "Because you're not oblivious _especially _when it comes to me."

Now this is going to sound dumb but my mouth just kept on running, inquiring if the answer to my question is a "yes".

"Emily," he starts out slow, drawling and barely concealing a smirk. "Let's just say that I'm looking forward to dessert."

Standing up properly, I run a hand through my mused hair and start back in the direction of the pantry, leaving Aaron tied up behind me. When I come back after about a minute I have something behind my back and a wicked grin on my face. Hotch's eyebrows are raised in surprise whilst his eyes are silently asking me what I am up to now. My breath against the shell of his ear sends a shock down his spine, his eyes roll back into his head and a bead of sweat runs down the back of his neck when I answer his unspoken question.

"_Honey,_ honey."

Sweet scented golden brown liquid drips from the fingertips that I had dipped in the container to sneak a taste. Aaron smiles and laps at fingers.

"As long as_ I_ can put _you _in the cuffs."

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**Author's Note:** So it wasn't so much about the handcuffs but you'll find it your kind and loving hearts to forgive me, right? ;)


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